


The Pentawizard Tournament

by ShimmeringAspens



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Eventual Romance, F/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-08-12 23:24:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20164348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShimmeringAspens/pseuds/ShimmeringAspens
Summary: For the fifth time that night, a piece of parchment spewed from the Goblet. Dumbledore, acting instinctively, swiftly caught the slip as it drifted towards the floor. The unnatural stillness that followed the announcement of Harry’s name returned to the hall one-hundred-fold.The Hogwarts headmaster unfolded the parchment and remained entirely impassive as he spoke the final name in a clear voice, “Draco Malfoy.”_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________





	1. Chapter 1

The hall was deadly quiet after Dumbledore readout Harry’s name. It was as if the air forgot it was supposed to move. Harry was frozen and completely rigid in his seat. Despite her shock, Hermione gently touched his arm.

“Harry,” she whispered, if she spoke at a normal volume it would undoubtedly sound as if she were screaming, “Go.”

Her prompting stirred something in Harry, and he slowly stood and began to walk towards the headmaster. Shouts of confusion and outrage broke the silence as he made his way up the marble steps at the front of the hall. After a few more seconds, he slipped out of a side door to join the other victors, and Hermione let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

Before she could make sense of what had just happened, screams broke out in the hall again. A sense of dread filled Hermione’s gut, and she spun to face the Goblet of Fire once more.

_What now?_ Hermione thought, _What else could go wrong?_

For the fifth time that night, a piece of parchment spewed from the Goblet. Dumbledore, acting instinctively, swiftly caught the slip as it drifted towards the floor. The unnatural stillness that followed the announcement of Harry’s name returned to the hall one-hundred-fold.

The Hogwarts headmaster unfolded the parchment and remained entirely impassive as he spoke the final name in a clear voice, “Draco Malfoy.”

* * *

“But there’s no way you’ll have to participate, right? I mean, it’s completely ridiculous, you didn’t even put your name in!” Hermione was deep into a rant in the Gryffindor common room.

“Hermione,” Harry began for what seemed like the millionth time that night, “Ludo Bagman and Barty Crouch all said that I have to participate. It’s a binding magical contract. It doesn’t matter that I didn’t put my name in.” He was seated in a large red chair, looking extremely worn, while Hermione paced in front of the common room fire.

After Harry slipped away from the Gryffindor celebrations earlier that evening, the party died out quickly. Once everyone had gone to bed, Crookshanks snuck into the boys’ dormitory and bothered Harry until he followed the cat to the common room to speak with a very distressed Hermione. Harry himself seemed miserable, but Hermione couldn’t tell how much of that was from the tournament and how much from his fight with Ron. Ron was, of course, acting completely ridiculous, but Hermione was much too preoccupied worrying about Harry to have time to set him straight yet.

“But that’s just not fair! They’re so much older and more experienced! Those tasks are going to be so dangerous! And do they really expect two fourth-years to keep up with seventh-years?”

This comment finally prompted a reaction from Harry, who had sunken into the plush leather chair and not stirred since Hermione dragged him out of bed. At her remark, he leaned forward and clutched the arms of the chair so tightly that his knuckles turned white, “Yeah, that’s the other thing,” he spoke in a hoarse voice, “Malfoy.”

“Malfoy?” Hermione asked, entirely confused. She was much more concerned with sizing up the seventh years than concerning herself with Malfoy.

“Malfoy,” Harry spat, “Thanks to that prat finding some way to put his name in the Goblet, everyone is going to think I did it on purpose too. I wonder how he did it?”

Hermione paused her pacing and stared deeply into the fire, “That’s assuming he did put his name in the Goblet.”

Harry looked at her incredulously, “Hermione, be serious, of course he did. I bet he’s bragging about it in the Slytherin common room right now. Bet his father sent him an owl detailing the dark magic he could use to trick the Goblet.” Harry was silent for a moment, then added, “You don’t think someone actually put both my and Malfoy’s name in, do you?”

Hermione surveyed her friend’s face and opened her mouth to respond, but then tightly shut it once more. The truth was, she _did_ believe someone put Harry and Malfoy’s name into the Goblet without their knowledge or consent. Although entering an extremely dangerous tournament for glory is exactly the thing Malfoy would do, Hermione didn’t believe he did it. She didn’t have much evidence for her theory except for the fact she saw Malfoy’s reaction to his name being called after Harry left the great hall.

Hermione found Malfoy instantly in the crowd of shocked Slytherins thanks to his distinctive platinum blonde hair. He looked as stunned as Harry was only a few moments before. His gray eyes were wide, his lips parted slightly as if he had just taken a sudden breath, and his hands were slightly shaking as he held them folded on the table in front of him.

Despite Hermione’s many run-ins with Malfoy, this was only the second time she had seen him with that expression on his pale face. The first time occurred a year ago, seconds before she slapped him for his disgusting comments about Hagrid and Buckbeak. There was only one way to describe it— Malfoy was scared. That was not the look of a person who had succeeded in bamboozling a powerful magical artifact, that was a look of a teenager about to be thrown into a deadly competition he didn’t sign up for.

Malfoy recovered quicker than Harry did, however. Within a second, he wiped all emotion off of his face, pushed himself to his feet, and strode towards the headmaster while ignoring the torrent of protests following him. Hermione might have imagined it, but she thought she could still his hands shaking as he exited the hall to join the four other champions. Despite what Harry thought, Hermione was convinced that Malfoy—for once in his life—was as innocent as Harry in this case. 

Instead of telling her friend this, who already had a short temper thanks to his spat with Ron, she changed the subject and resumed her pacing, “Regardless, we should focus on the opponents that matter, Harry. That’s Cedrick, Fleur, and Krum. We should start making a strategy for how to handle the first task.”

“But Hermione,” Harry groaned, “We don’t even know what the first task is.”

“Exactly,” she replied, “So we should prepare for everything, just to be safe.”

Perhaps it was this comment, or perhaps it was because it was nearing three in the morning, but Harry was exhausted and done with Hermione Jean Granger for the evening.

He took a deep breath and said, “Okay, let’s prepare for everything… in the morning. Goodnight.” With that, he stood and made his way back to the boys’ dormitories.

Hermione soon made her way up to her own room but didn’t find sleep easily. She tossed and turned throughout the night, and her dreams were filled with horrible monsters and faceless men chasing Harry as she watched trapped in a cage nearby. By the time it was breakfast, she had deep purple bags under her eyes.

“You look awful, Hermione.” Ginny stated from across the table, “Honestly if I didn’t know any better, I would have thought your name came out of the goblet.”

“Ha, ha, very funny,” Hermione replied while gulping down a scalding cup of coffee. Ginny must’ve read her grumpy attitude because she backed off quickly and let her work her way through buttered toast and sunny-side-up eggs.

The hall was filled with a constant buzz of excitement regarding the events of the previous night. When Cedrick arrived for breakfast, the hall erupted into shouts, whispers, and boos. The Hufflepuffs cheered, the Slytherins hissed, the Gryffindors ignored him, and a smattering of Ravenclaws applauded. It was the first time Hermione considered the implications of having three wizards from Hogwarts participate.

_There’s never going to be unity_, she thought dully. With members from Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin, each house would be rooting for their own champion. Only Ravenclaw wouldn’t have a horse in this race_. _That didn’t bode well for the Hogwarts social scene; everyone would be set against each other for the entire term. 

A great amount of booing indicated the arrival of another champion, and Hermione turned to see Draco Malfoy strutting through the entrance hall. He was surrounded by a Slytherin royal-guard consisting of Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson, and Daphne Greengrass. The panic Hermione thought she saw on Malfoy’s face the previous night was entirely replaced with a smug condescending smirk. Today he truly looked the part of a cheating, manipulative, cunning snake.

After the initial onslaught of jeering, most of the hall turned away from the Slytherin and resumed eating. Hermione, however, kept her gaze on the Malfoy heir as he glided through the hall. She was convinced he was just as innocent as Harry, but his current attitude didn’t support her idea.

However, the longer she looked at the blonde-boy, the more evidence she found to encourage her thoughts. As usual, his eyes were narrowed as he regarded everything with disdain, but he clearly had bags under them from a lack of sleep. His hair, often slicked back perfectly, was slightly tousled, as if he had run his hands through it in agitation. Lastly, he took his morning tea with three sugar packets and a spoon of honey. That was excessive even with his sweet-tooth, as he normally only took it with honey. No, Hermione was convinced Malfoy was much more perturbed than he let on.

“Hermione,” Ginny decided her friend had enough silence for one morning, “What are you looking at so intensely?”

She quickly glanced away, terrified of what Ginny would think of her staring, but was saved by the great hall doors bursting open and slamming loudly against the rough stone walls. The banging echoes completely silenced the chamber, and everyone turned to watch a furious Lucius Malfoy storm between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables.

“Dumbledore!” He yelled while only half-way to the headmaster’s seat. There was absolute venom in his voice.

Only a few steps behind him, Narcissa Malfoy entered the hall, but didn’t follow her husband to the professor’s table. Instead, she veered to the right, bee-lining for her son. Hermione couldn’t hear the words spoken between the pair, but Narcissa immediately began stroking her son’s blonde hair despite his clear protests.

Lucius finally made it to the front of the hall where Dumbledore calmly stood to greet him. Even though Lord Malfoy spoke in his usual quiet manner, the silence of the hall ensured everyone caught his every word.

“I need to speak with you, as well as Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch immediately.”

Dumbledore, as always, looked entirely unperturbed by the rude interruption, “Very well. I will call for them. In the meantime, please follow me to a more private venue.”

At his words, Lucius shot a meaningful look across the room to his wife, who immediately leaned down and whispered something in her son’s ear. They both stood and strode out of the hall with Lucius and the headmaster.

“Looks like Malfoy’s father didn’t have to wait long to hear about this,” Harry spoke from directly behind Hermione, promoting her to jump.

“Harry!” Hermione gasped.

“Yeah,” he replied, “And to think I was all worried about entering the great gall and drawing lots of attention to myself this morning. I saw the Malfoys on my way down and knew that if I followed after them, I’d be okay.” He sat down next to Hermione and picked up a few pieces of bacon.

“Only the Malfoys can cause such a scene that even Harry Potter gets ignored,” Neville spoke up for the first time that morning, finally drawing his eyes away from _Herbology of the Middle East_.

“Best thing a Malfoy’s ever done,” Harry said between bites.

After a few more moments of eating, Hermione glanced around the table furtively. Neville had returned to his book, and Ginny was talking with Dean Thomas. Ron, she realized, wasn’t in the great hall yet, which probably meant this was the best time to discuss the tournament.

“So…how are you feeling?” Hermione began awkwardly. Judging by the bags under his eyes, Harry got even less sleep than Hermione.

“Well, considering I woke up and found out I’m still stuck in a deadly tournament I want nothing to do with, I feel great.”

Hermione bit back a retort and reminded herself that Harry was under an extreme amount of stress right now. She decided to change the subject, “What do you think they’re talking about?” Hermione asked, her eyes flicking back to the doors the Malfoys exited from a few minutes prior.

“Isn’t it obvious? Mummy is upset that Draco put his name in the Goblet, so they’re here to withdraw him from the tournament,” Harry stated.

Hermione subtly rolled her eyes at his sarcasm, “Just last night you were saying that his father helped him enter his name, Harry.”

“He still could’ve,” Harry quickly defended himself, “Maybe he didn’t tell his wife before, but now she’s furious that his name was actually chosen. So now he’s switching sides to help pull Draco out of the tournament.”

Hermione mulled his words over for a moment, but then let out a quick gasp, “But, Harry, if they allow Draco to withdraw, they must allow you to as well!”

Harry paused for a moment, but then resumed eating, “I dunno. Lucius is definitely only campaigning for Draco. He’d probably throw a party if I got myself killed during the tasks.” 

“But they’ll have to make an exception for you as well! It would only be fair.”

“There you go again, assuming everything is always fair.” Harry said bleakly.

Hermione stood, “You know what Harry, I’m going to go to the library. I bet I can find some research on binding magical contracts. Maybe I’ll be able to find some way out of this mess!” With a fierce determination, she stood and strode out of the hall without so much as a goodbye to her friends.

But as she left the hall, Ludo Bagman’s boyish shouts reached her ears, “This truly is extraordinary, Lucius. I understand your concerns about your son’s safety, of course, but what is done is done. Just think how splendid it will be to have five wizards competing this year!” His voice reached a shrill screech when he said the word “five.”

Hermione bit her lip and changed course to get closer to the voices. If Malfoy convinced Crouch, Bagman, and the headmaster to exempt his son, she didn’t need to go to the library to research for Harry. She would simply have to appeal to Dumbledore.

“My son will not participate in a competition he did not submit his name for, no matter how entertaining you find these turns of events to be, Bagman.” Lucius’ cool voice responded.

“That’s assuming your son didn't put his name in, Mr. Malfoy,” the headmaster’s almost amused voice broke in.

Hermione bit her lip, her parents taught her better than to eavesdrop, but she wanted to hear the rest of the conversation.

_This is all for Harry_, she thought to herself as justification,_ I'm just here for Harry_.

“Draco,” Narcissa spoke gently, Hermione had to push her ear completely up against the wooden door to hear, “Please tell these gentlemen what you told us in your letter.”

Malfoy’s voice was even quieter than his mothers, and Hermione strained to catch his every word, “I didn’t put my name into the goblet. I don’t know who did. I have no idea how it happened.” There was a pause, and his voice quavered as he finally added, “I…I don’t want to participate.”

Hermione could picture Malfoy’s face as he spoke those words. Harry made a similar remark after she dragged him out of bed last night. She cringed at the memory of Harry’s normally bright green eyes looking dull, sunken, and defeated. Her heart clenched painfully; she felt no deep feelings towards Malfoy, but she couldn’t help but pity his situation. Both he and Harry were forced into an incredibly dangerous situation without any wrong-doing of their own. She felt sympathy for Malfoy regardless of his awful attitude.

“So,” Lucius began again, “I once again demand that my son be freed of his obligation to participate. I will find a way to convince all of you, I’m sure.” His voice was sharp by the end of his demand.

“It cannot be done,” Mr. Crouch’s voice responded sternly, “Even if I could break the contract, I would not do so after being threatened by an ex-Death Eater, Malfoy.”

A cold silence filled the room.

“Excuse me, Mr. Crouch, but I think you’ll remember that myself and my husband were cleared of all charges as we were under the imperious curse during the Dark Lord’s reign. This is all a matter of public record, so I’m sure you’d be able to find the legal documents if you so desire.” Narcissa spoke in a strained tone.

“Alas, my friends,” Hermione stifled a laugh as she was sure no one in that room considered themselves to be friends with Dumbledore, “it seems we’ve reached an impasse. Although I believe Mr. Malfoy did not put his name in that Goblet, it seems he must participate anyways. Now, let us retire this conversation and return to the great hall. Mr. Crouch, have you tried to French toast? It truly is spectacular.”

Footsteps approaching the door sent Hermione ducking for cover behind a suit of armor in a nearby alcove.

Dumbledore, Crouch, Bagman, and the Malfoys exited the classroom quickly. The first four members of the group marched towards the great hall, but Lucius and Narcissa lingered by the classroom.

The younger Malfoy paused and looked back to his parents in confusion. Narcissa waved him forward, “Go ahead, Draco. Your father and I will catch up.” The boy nodded and spun back around to follow the older men back to the hall.

To Hermione’s horror, Narcissa grabbed Lucius’ arm and dragged him into her alcove, directly on the other side of the suit of amour she was crouched behind.

“This is bad, Lucius,” the tall woman spoke rapidly, “You know as well as I do what is going to happen soon. Your mark grows darker every day, and it’s clear that the right time is approaching.”

“Yes,” the man replied, “But Narcissa, we’ve already discussed this. We’ve decided what needs to be done. I’ll return, and you’ll stay with Draco. I’ll explain everything,” Lucius’ voice was tired and distinctly unhappy.

“I know we’ve discussed it. But…now this happened. Draco’s name came out of that Goblet and considering the…timing, it makes me nervous.” Her voice began to quiver, “Who would put Draco’s name into that Goblet? I mean, what if he had something to do with this? Maybe you shouldn’t return. Maybe we should flee instead.” Narcissa’s voice cracked, and she grabbed the front of her husband’s robes.

Lucius let out a very deep sigh and pulled his wife closer to him as he wrapped his arms around her, “We can’t flee, trust me, it’ll only make things worse for us in the long-run. I’m sorry I couldn’t convince them to free Draco, but it’ll be alright. He’s a smart boy, he’ll make it through. Besides, Dumbledore may not be our biggest fan, but he won’t let anything happen to Draco. He’ll be okay. We have bigger concerns than the Triwizard cup at the moment.”

Narcissa kept her head tucked into her husband’s front, and muffled sobs soon shook her body.

“Cissa,” Lucius whispered against her hair, “It’ll be okay. I’ll take care of you. I’ll take care of Draco. We’ll be alright.” Lucius began to draw slow circles on the top of Narcissa’s back with his thumb.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he cooed once more and began placing soft kisses on her head.

Hermione looked away. Perhaps it was because her only interaction with Lucius involved him spewing hate and starting a fight with Mr. Weasley, or perhaps it was because all of her interactions with his son were hostile in nature, but Hermione found the scene in front of her absolutely shocking.

She couldn’t imagine Malfoy men whispering words of comfort, offering reassurances, or kissing in public, and now that it was happening right in front of her, she didn’t exactly know what to do with herself. All of her interactions with Malfoy men were of bullying, insults, and hatred. She forgot that even Malfoys were humans fully capable of love and compassion.

The couple remained in the alcove for a few more minutes as Narcissa slowly stopped crying under Lucius’ constant consoling. Once finished, they pulled apart from each other and Lucius wiped away his wife’s tears. 

“Come now, we must be strong for Draco.” Lucius said as he straightened his robes.

“Yes, of course,” Narcissa replied while magicking her red eyes away and fixing her make-up.

Lucius then took her arm and led her, thankfully, away from Hermione’s hiding spot. She waited until she couldn’t hear their footsteps in the corridor and then cautiously emerged from behind the suit of armor. The hall was deserted, so she began to stride confidently back to breakfast. She wanted to shar what she heard with Harry. Clearly something was upsetting the Malfoy patriarch beyond his son being chosen as an unexpected fifth champion, and Hermione wanted to know what it was.

However, judging by the sounds of chairs scraping against stone, breakfast was ending, and everyone would be heading off to morning classes soon. She wondered if she’d have time to discuss it with him in potions and was so lost in thought she rounded a corner and ran directly into a hard body.

She took a few steps back and began to apologize, but her words caught in her throat as she made eye contact with the exhausted, yet clearly revolted, Draco Malfoy. 

His grey eyes briefly looked over her shoulder to the corridor and judging from the harsh glare he gave her, he suspected she had listened to the private conversation.

"Can't use your eyes, can you, Granger?" He taunted angrily.

She was too shocked to respond.

"Or perhaps you can't use your mouth?" He added, smirking down at her.

Since when did he get so tall? She thought vaguely.

Her silence seemed to amuse him further, "Too shocked to speak, Granger? I understand I naturally take many people's breath away, but just a slight bump in a hallway really speaks volumes about your experience with men. Feeling a little frustrated? Maybe pent-up? Well, please grasp that I would never...consort with someone like you, even out of pity," he spat at her.

Malfoy was never nice to her, but today he was particularly vile.

_It's the tournament, he's upset and taking his anger out on me._

Hermione once again thought of Harry and how terrible the situation was for him. Harry, at least, was no stranger to tragic events circulating around him; but Malfoy was a different story.

Malfoy spent his entire life without hardship or struggle, and his father was able to fix every issue he's had until now. This was the first time he would ever have a problem his family power and wealth couldn't fix, and despite his best efforts, Hermione could tell the strain it put on him.

She finally found her voice, "I'm sorry this happened to you."

Malfoy's eyes widened and flashed with fury. He instantly sneered at her and stormed away from the conversation. Ten paces away from her, he turned and glared at her once more, "I don't need pity from a filthy mudblood."

Hermione cringed at his words, but Malfoy looked unapologetic as he walked away.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m really enjoying writing this, so I hope you all like this next chapter! I apologize for any mistakes, this work is beta-less.

Hermione was having a terrible few weeks.

Nobody seemed to care about S.P.E.W, she unwillingly became the designated moderator between Harry and Ron (who still wouldn’t even acknowledge each other’s presence), and Draco Malfoy’s bullying reached a peak she didn’t think was possible.

Malfoy clearly decided her eavesdropping should be punished with a relentless stream of abuse throughout all of the classes Gryffindors and Slytherins shared. In fact, the only thing Harry and Ron did seem to agree on was that Draco had somehow become more of a prat since being selected for the tournament.

“Do you think we could find a way to turn his hair bubblegum pink?” Ron asked during Care of Magical Creatures, glaring at the blonde boy.

Malfoy started class by teasing Harry about getting his autograph before he died, switched to mocking Hagrid about blast-ended skrewts, and then turned on Hermione to point out the similarities between her and the creatures.

"Better yet, let's just hex it all off," Harry replied dryly. Ron laughed, and for a moment the tension between them disappeared completely. Unfortunately, the moment passed, and Ron turned back to his blast-ended skrewt with redoubled concentration. The frigid atmosphere returned as promptly as it had vanished.

To top off her week-from-hell, as she dubbed it, her talk with Harry about what she overheard the Malfoys discussing did not go as planned. Upon reflection, she probably should have begun the conversation with a more tactful approach.

After her run-in with Malfoy, Hermione rushed the greenhouses and was quickly paired with Harry to monitor a clump of bouncing bulbs.

"Harry," she said breathlessly the second they were out of ear-shot of the Hufflepuffs, "You'll never guess what I heard the Malfoys and Dumbledore discussing."

Harry's face lit up instantly, "They're not letting him participate? Malfoy's exempt from the tournament? So I will be too?!"

"Um...no, sorry," Hermione stated, wincing, “Malfoy didn't convince them to overturn the decision."

Harry's face immediately fell. He must have lost his concentration on the task at hand because the bulb clutched in his right hand to give a fearsome hop and hit him directly in the face. To make matters worse, all the Hufflepuffs across the table broke into loud laughter. Hermione swiftly cast a freezing charm on the bulb and re-attached it to its stem.

"No, Harry, they didn't mention anything like that, but I did overhear something significant," she added. Hermione quickly re-hashed the conversation between Narcissa and Lucius in a low tone.

To her great surprise, Harry merely replied, "So?"

"So," Hermione began, "This is really important, Harry! First, now we know that Malfoy didn't put his name in the goblet, someone did it for him, just like with you. Second, and more importantly, something is happening. Something bad. Think about it: the dark mark at the Quidditch World Cup, your scar hurting, the Triwizard tournament suddenly turning into a Pentawizard tournament. Dark magic is in the air! Something is coming. And I think it has something to do with Vol—"

"Voldemort?" Harry finished for her in an exasperated tone.

"Well...yes," she said lamely.

"A couple things, Hermione," Harry stated in a robotic voice, "First, we don't know that Malfoy didn't put his name in the goblet, we _only_ know that he told his parents he didn't put his name in. Second, you're right, a lot of things are happening right now, but we can't confirm they’re all stemming from the same source.”

"What are you saying? That all these events are disconnected? You think all of these terrible things coincidentally occurred around the same time?" She had to force herself to keep her voice down so that others wouldn't overhear, but her patience was wearing thin.

"All I'm saying, Hermione, is that we shouldn't jump to conclusions. Even if Voldemort is involved with all of them, why would he order someone to put Malfoy's name in the goblet? Don't you remember when we ran into Malfoy in the woods after the Quidditch World Cup? Malfoy practically told us his parents were death eaters. Why would someone aligned with Voldemort put his name in the goblet? It doesn't make sense," Harry said firmly.

Hermione paused because Harry brought up some good points. Who would put Malfoy's name in the goblet?

"Maybe it's someone working autonomously for Voldemort. Maybe they put both of your names in, but for different purposes. Maybe they want you to lose, and Malfoy to win.”

Harry gaped at her, "You think someone used powerful, dangerous, and most-likely exhausting, dark magic twice: once to put my name in so I die, and once to put Malfoy—a spoiled, rich, mommy's boy— in, so he wins some money he doesn't need?"

Hermione nearly threw a bouncing bulb at him, "Well, at least I'm trying to put things together! I'm not avoiding the very real possibility that Voldemort is involved with all of these things."

"Yeah," Harry glared back at her, "You have the luxury of looking for shadows that aren't there while I have to deal with the fact I might die doing impossible tasks I don't didn’t volunteer for.”

"Shadows? I'm worried for your life, and you're telling me I'm seeing shadows?" Hermione met his gaze furiously.

"Yes," Harry responded, not breaking eye contact, "I am."

Hermione accidentally popped the bouncing bulb she was holding, and pollen exploded all over her robes. She didn’t even bother to clean up and instead strode over to Ron's table to work with him for the rest of the period.

Later that evening, Harry found her and apologized weakly, but she accepted his request for forgiveness anyways. The entire school was against him right now, and Harry needed all the friends he could get.

The Slytherins always hated the Gryffindors, so having Malfoy be a direct competitor to Harry only worsened their treatment of him. The Hufflepuffs, normally on good terms with the Gryffindors, were distinctly cold to him for stealing Cedric’s moment of glory. Although they treated Malfoy similarly, they apparently decided the Boy-who-lived stole more glory away from Cedric than Malfoy did. The Ravenclaws were mostly siding with the Hufflepuffs, and many were giving Harry the cold-shoulder as well.

Hermione’s close friendship with Harry meant that she was also ostracized by most of the school. Unsurprisingly, Hermione tried to take solace in the library.

But, unfortunately for her, the library didn’t turn out to be the sanctuary she hoped for.

“He’s so muscular,” a sixth-year Ravenclaw whispered loudly.

Hermione shook the voice away and tried to refocus on _Suitable Spells for Sticky Situations_. She hoped she could pass along some of the charms she learned to Harry.

"I wonder if he goes for sunset broom rides?" A fifth-year Hufflepuff said, even louder than the first speaker.

Hermione ignored them again and continued to read.

The Candentis Charm is useful against vampires, as it—

"What books do you think he's reading?"

...as it causes the user's entire body to glow like a small sun. The user normally—

"Probably Quidditch books!" This witch's voice was a high squeak.

...normally glows for around four hours, as the spell only uses as much energy as a Lumos charm. The Candentis charm is also useful in—

"No, he probably gets bored of Quidditch. What if they're romance novels?!"

...useful in cold climates because it regulates the caster's body temperature to—

"Maybe he's lonely. Maybe he needs company. Do you think I should go over and ask?"

Hermione couldn't take it anymore. With a huff, she shut _Suitable Spells for Sticky Situations_ and glared at the source of the noise.

It was a group of ten girls—Viktor Krum's fan club. They were huddled by the muggle studies section of the library and were very obviously staring at the Quidditch seeker. She turned her head to see the celebrity four tables away, pouring over a stack of thick books that were definitely not romance novels.

Deciding she may as well start heading to double potions early, she picked up her things and stuffed them into her bag. She determined it would be best to avoid the loud fangirls, so she headed deeper into the stacks to make a large loop around them.

She took a sharp turn around a stack holding books about Ancient Runes (a section of the library nearly always deserted) and almost ran directly into a figure leaning against the end of the bookshelf. She managed to stop herself from directly hitting them, but involuntarily let out a small gasp of surprise.

"I really hope you're not planning on making this a habit, Granger," Draco Malfoy's drawling voice stated as he looked up from his book.

"You really shouldn't stand around corners, Malfoy," she retorted, "It's like your asking people to run into you."

He raised a pale eyebrow at her, seemingly surprised she found her voice so quickly in comparison to their last run-in. He lowered his book, _Dastardly Devices Designed for Dangerous Dilemmas_, and set it on a nearby table.

Hermione used this moment to take a closer look at him. He, like Harry, still looked exhausted even though a week had passed since the selection ceremony. His eyes were slightly blood-shot and still had deep bags beneath them. He’d clearly given up on his hair, and instead of it being slightly tossed, it appeared as if he didn’t even try to style it that morning.

His attitude, however, remained surly, "Trying to dictate where I can and cannot stand? I don't understand how Weasley or Potter deal with your bossy attitude. Do you enjoy making everyone else's life miserable?"

She ignored his remark, "What are you doing here, Malfoy? Sulking alone because mommy and daddy couldn't fix your problems for you?"

Narcissa and Lucius departed the same evening they arrived at Hogwarts, and despite their failure to pull Draco from the tournament, they someone managed to leave looking just as powerful and ruthless as they did when they first entered the school.

"Or," Hermione continued, "Do you naturally lurk around corners?"

"Lurk?" Malfoy snarled, "I didn't realize reading in a library counted as lurking. Forgive me for seeking refuge from the group of flamingos over there," he gestured towards Krum's fangirls, "I just wanted to read in peace."

"Flamingos?" Hermione questioned, biting back a snort.

"Yeah, Granger. Flamingos," he annunciated, "Can't you see the similarities? All wearing copious amounts of make-up like pretty pink feathers, all craning their long necks just to look at him, all wishing they could be alone with him and lift one of their legs while he snogs them."

Hermione peered around the stack and saw one of the girls standing on tip-toes and straining her neck to view Krum through a gap in some of the books. She couldn't help but laugh at his comparison.

"You know, flamingos aren't pink because they're trying to attract mates. They're pink because their diet mainly consists of shrimp," Hermione said, glancing back at Malfoy, "And they don't make much noise. And flamingos actually mate for life once they find a partner, so your comparison is all wrong."

"Merlin, you're such a swot," Malfoy stated, "You're just jealous because you're closer to a blast-ended skrewt."

Hermione rolled her eyes, "Well, I'd much rather be a smart blast-ended skrewt than a dumb flamingo. Or some idiotic creature, like a bat, that enjoys lurking in corners and terrorizing people," she finished, sending him an icy glare. She decided she had enough of Malfoy for the day and walked quickly away from him.

To her displeasure, Malfoy began following ten paces behind her.

She kept walking but looked over her shoulder at him and said, "What, Malfoy?"

"Cool it, Granger. It's not like I'm running after you to beg for your forgiveness for offending you. I also have double period potions starting in five minutes, if you remember."

She’d forgotten, actually. This would be the first double potions with the Slytherins since Halloween, and she was sure it would be a particularly long class for Harry. Hermione would bet anything the Slytherins would taunt him throughout the entire class.

Hermione continued to look backwards at Malfoy, "Just because we're headed to the same place doesn't mean--ooph."

She had just turned a corner near the exit of the library, and, for the third time that week, ran directly into someone. Her only consolation was the fact that she knew it couldn’t have been Draco Malfoy this time. She really needed to stop walking around corners at such sharp angles. Or maybe she should resort to her second-year ways and use mirrors to double-check for people or the occasional Basilisk before making turns.

This time, she had run into the Durmstrang champion.

“Oh, I’m very sorry,” she said politely, “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

"It is okay, it was accident," Krum spoke with a heavy accent.

"Yes, right, _an_ accident," Hermione repeated, slightly stressing her addition of the proper article before the noun, "Well, I better be off, I don't want to be late to class."

She made to step around the Bulgarian seeker, but he lightly grabbed her arm as she tried to move past him.

Malfoy caught up and swept around the pair while raising an eyebrow at her. Hermione glared back at him—this was all his fault. If she had been paying attention, she wouldn't have run into Krum.

She turned her attention back to the Durmstrang student, "Yes?" She somehow managed to keep her tone polite despite the fact this stranger had just grabbed her and didn't look remotely sorry about it.

"What is your name?" Krum asked.

"Hermione. Hermione Granger. And I'm terribly sorry, but I must be going," she pulled her arm away from the Quidditch player and began trailing after Malfoy.

"Goodbye, Hermy-own," Krum called to her.

She didn't bother to correct him. As she left the library, she quickened her pace. Thanks to Malfoy and Krum, she barely had any time to get to the potions classroom. She turned into a larger corridor—thankfully not running into anyone this time—and spotted Malfoy at the end of the hall walking at a leisurely pace. Of course, he could probably be fifteen minutes late to potions and Snape wouldn't care. She, on the other hand, would probably be punished if she didn't arrive two minutes early.

She passed him speedily, not even bothering to glance his way.

"You have to be careful, Granger," he drawled at her, "I thought you might meet an early grave because of your blood status, but it seems you'll sooner be trampled by a pack of flamingos instead."

Hermione spun to argue with him, but was surprised to see his prediction wasn't too far off the mark. The fangirls had followed Krum out of the library, and some had decided to follow Hermione after her interaction with him. The group tailing her did look as if they were about to charge.

Not wanting to start any more fights, Hermione spun again and continued to potions.

* * *

There was only one way to describe the first potions lesson after the selection ceremony: abysmal. Malfoy, seemingly energized by their argument in the library, spent the entire class murmuring words to Harry.

"Probably end up crying for his mother in the first task...won't do him much good though, I don’t think she’ll be making any appearances…”

Hermione was sorely tempted to point out that Malfoy immediately wrote to his parents after his name came out of the goblet, but decided it was best to leave it alone. If she learned one thing from her experience in the library, it was that it was better not to encourage him. Just like with Krum’s fangirls, Hermione was determined to ignore him.

“How fast do you think it’ll be until he’s incapacitated? Less than ten minutes probably…”

Ignore, just ignore. She started whispering this mantra under her breath, and it was clear Harry was getting more and more agitated as the class progressed.

“Should just give up and relinquish his life now. Bet they’d let him live a muggle’s life if he let them obliviate his memory. Then he and Granger could go live off in Muggle London together.”

Hermione grit her teeth and nearly added fifteen dragonfly wings instead of the required thirteen.

“Think about how loud the school will laugh when he can’t even manage a single one of the tasks…”

Hermione glanced at Harry’s caldron and laughed humorlessly when she noticed he’d produced a perfect Draught of Failure. Truly, this had to be the worst potions class they would ever have the displeasure of taking.

.

.

.

She was wrong.

Exactly one week later, Hermione was walking with Harry to the gloomy dungeon once more. But, she never made it inside the door.

After Malfoy insulted her blood status and flashed POTTER STINKS in his face, Harry’s poorly contained frustration from the last two weeks boiled over. Within seconds, both champions had their wands pulled and were firing hexes at each other from a very close range.

Hermione could only flinch before Malfoy’s curse hit her squarely in the face. To her horror, her already large front teeth grew to the size of baseball bats while the Slytherins laughed hysterically. After Snape commented she looked the same as always, Hermione flew from the scene incredibly upset.

She sat quite still as Madam Pomphrey toyed with her teeth, gradually making them smaller and smaller.

_Malfoy is a terrible person_, she thought angrily, _I have no idea why I ever felt sorry for him._

Ever since his name came out of that goblet, he was downright unbearable. His anti-muggle born remarks increased exponentially, he spent more time bullying Harry than anything else, and he had been getting into twice the amount of fights as usual. Over the past two weeks, Hermione heard Malfoy was sent to detention on five separate occasions for cursing other students.

Malfoy, an already hostile person by nature, had effectively turned into a mountain troll since the choosing ceremony. Stress could do a lot of things to a person, but Hermione found it surprising Malfoy's behavior was this appalling considering the first task was still a few weeks away. Unless...

“Almost done, dear,” Madam Pomphrey interrupted her thoughts, her teeth were now the size of acorns, “Grab that mirror of the nightstand, please.”

She did and positioned it so she could watch as her teeth shrunk.

“Just let me know when they’re the proper size, Ms. Granger.”

She blankly watched her teeth shrink as her mind continued to wander. Unless...there was something else bothering him. Perhaps, like his parents, he knew something most people didn't. Maybe Lucius had talked to his son before he left the school, warned him about whatever danger lay ahead. It would certainly be worthwhile to find out, but tricking Malfoy into talking wouldn't be as easy as whipping up some Polyjuice potion like in their second year. Hermione knew Snape had increased security around his private supplies and would certainly notice if things went missing. No, she'd need to find another way to get him to talk. Maybe if she--

"Ms. Granger, do they look the right size now?"

Hermione blinked and looked in the mirror. Her front teeth, always too large, were now the same size as their companions. She smiled broadly, "Yes, they're brilliant, thank you." At least she got one good thing out of being hexed by Malfoy.

However, her teeth were throbbing painfully, and she privately thought she would have preferred to keep her over-large teeth if given the option to avoid the discomfort.

Well, that certainly _had_ to be the worst potions lesson of her life.

.

.

.

The world was a cruel place.

_Actually, it’s really just Professor Snape,_ Hermione thought bitterly.

One week after the teeth-incident, Hermione found herself back in the dungeons for another round of double potions with the Slytherins. Fridays, normally her favorite day because it meant she had the weekend to catch up on all of her work, was quickly becoming her personal version of hell.

Class began with the usual bickering between the Slytherins and Gryffindors, which immediately ceased when Snape threw open the classroom door.

"Silence," he ordered, as if the room weren't already deadly quiet.

"The headmaster has decided, that in light of the fact we are hosting the Triwizard cup, professors should be encouraging more group projects in the name of school unity," he sneered; clearly the idea of teamwork was abhorrent to him.

"So, starting today, we will be splitting into groups of four to each table. Each group will then be further split into pairs. Your partner will be your lab partner for the rest of the year," he paused as a flurry of whispered conversation broke out throughout the room.

"Hermione," Ron stage-whispered loudly, "We should be partners. You definitely don't want to pair with Harry, he has a habit of lying to people that trust him."

Harry opened his mouth to argue back, but Hermione cut in, "Enough, both of you!"

If she had to choose, she would pick Harry. Not because he was marginally better at potions than Ron, but because was going to need all the help he could get to keep up with schoolwork on top of the tournament.

But, it was all futile, as Hermione was much too smart to think Snape would let them pick their partners. Picking partners themselves would make them happy, a notion Snape was strongly against.

"I," Snape started again, effectively hushing the murmurs, "will be assigning the groups.”

A loud collective groan echoed through the chamber.

"Now," Snape said, his eyes darting over all the students, "let's start with—Weasley."

Ron let out a feeble whimper.

"Your partner shall be...Goyle."

Hermione sighed, Ron's chances of passing potions that year just disappeared.

"And the other pair at that table shall be Mr. Nott and Mr. Zabini."

...his chances of not getting into a fight that year just disappeared too.

"Next..." Snape continued, but Hermione drowned him out. He kept sorting Slytherins favorably and Gryffindors poorly, but Hermione wasn't surprised by this.

"Ms. Granger," Snape had finally gotten to her, "will be partnered with Ms. Parkinson." Pansy grinned at her like a deranged dog from across the room. "The other pair," Snape added, "will be Daphne Greengrass and Dean Thomas."

It could be worse, she thought vaguely. She was friends with Dean, and Daphne was the most reasonable of all the Slytherins. Pansy was the only one who would actually give her trouble.

"Potter," Snape spat with a wicked grin, "shall be partnered with Mr. Malfoy. Mr. Crabb and Ms. Fawley will form the other pair."

Hermione glanced to gauge Harry's reaction to his awful groupmates and instantly regretted it. He looked angry, frustrated, upset, and most of all, helpless. Snape and Harry both knew Malfoy would abuse him every week until the end of the year. Harry, already dealing with anxiety surrounding the tournament, anger stemming from Rita Skeeter's published lies, and loneliness from his fractured relationship with Ron, would now be tortured weekly for Snape's personal amusement.

Cursing her inability to let things go, Hermione raised her hand.

"Yes, Ms. Granger?" Snape asked, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

"Please sir, you shouldn't pair Malfoy and Harry together."

"Ten points from Gryffindor for speaking out of turn, Ms. Granger. But please, continue if you so desire."

Hermione bit her lip, but plowed forward, "Although I wasn't here last week, I heard that the two champions had to miss potions because of some Triwizard tournament meeting. They might have similar meetings in the future, in which case they wouldn't be able to come to class. If both of them are gone, they won't be able to keep up with the work because they don't have a partner that can cover for them." This was a complete lie, as Harry already told her the weighing of the wands was a one-time event, but Hermione hoped Snape took the bait anyway.

Snape glared at her; upset she would question his authority.

"You bring up some valid points, Ms. Granger. Since you're so invested in the problem, I'll be sure to make you part of the solution. Mr. Potter will be paired with Ms. Parkinson, and you will be partners with Mr. Malfoy."

Hermione stiffened, suddenly wishing she cared less about Harry's feelings and stayed quiet instead. Her and Malfoy? It was a disaster waiting to happen.

"Oh," Snape said with a forced casualty, "Also twenty points from Gryffindor for continuing to speak out of turn." The Slytherins cheered.

"Now, everyone find your partner."

Amid the scuffle of people picking up their belongings, Harry tugged on her robe, "Thank you, Hermione. I know this isn't ideal for either of us, but I really appreciate you doing this."

Hermione could only nod once before walking over to Malfoy's table.

"Granger, let's establish some ground rules. I don't want you touching me or any of my stuff, so do your best to remain as far away from me as possible," Malfoy stated the moment she was in earshot.

Hermione didn't acknowledge the comment and instead focused her attention on the blackboard where she knew the instructions were about to be posted.

"Today, you will be brewing Draught of Serenity,” Snape said happily.

Yes, the world was a cruel place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Don’t worry, I swear I won’t make Hermione keep running into people to propel the plot. 
> 
> Ch 3: Hermione gets her ears hexed, Krum tries to say Hermione’s name again, and the first task looms over an ignorant Draco


End file.
